


a few white lies, and other harmless things

by ethandiesofdysentery



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: AND IT ENDS BETTER I PROMISE, DisneyWorld, First Meetings, Fluff, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, The Author Takes Full Advantage Of George Not Knowing What Mr. Claymond Looks Like, at least for george it is, but only at the end i promise, im sure ill add more characters later, is it friends to lovers or strangers to lovers? you decide!, vacation fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-26 09:13:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30103671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ethandiesofdysentery/pseuds/ethandiesofdysentery
Summary: George hops a flight to Florida to spend a week in Disneyworld. And after that, maybe, just possibly, he can convince his best friend (only a friend, for sure) to actually meet him in person. But then he gets lost and asks a stranger for directions to the park and now he's maybe sort of falling in love....Clay is in way over his goddamn head.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 42





	1. Sunday

**Author's Note:**

> i pwomise im still gonna write ontology but i thought abt george not knowing what mr dreamiekins looks like and how easily i can plotify that and. here we are
> 
> bear with me on the location descriptions because ive only been to disneyworld once and i was like 13. also the title is tentative im bad at titles leave me alone if u have a better idea tell me
> 
> that being said - let's fucking GO.
> 
> <3

The days that determine the courses of our lives never seem so important before they begin. The most mundane moments can blossom into the most life-changing experiences. The most normal routine can fracture into a million pieces of fate.

This is a very poetic way to say that today doesn't seem very "destiny-shaping" when Clay is searching every grocery store in Orlando for some goddamn _Cheez-Its_. 

It's been a fuckin' hour since he left the house, and he's gotten every other snack on the list for what has been officially titled, "Dream and Sapnap's Extremely Cool and Fun Movie Day". But apparently this entire damn city has chosen just now to run out of Cheez-Its, and there are many insistent text notifications piling up on his phone explaining why he will not be let back into the house if he doesn't return home with some bright orange cheesy squares.

But the amount of fate and/or destiny-related moments goes straight from none to one hundred when Clay, exiting the fifth store of the day, is stopped by someone tapping his shoulder and saying, "Hey, I'm sorry, do you happy to know how to get to Disneyworld?"

Clay is about ready to lose it laughing, because holy shit, does he get that way too often. He doesn't know what about him that screams - although accurately - "long term Florida resident", but he's been asked a million times to direct people to places that they could definitely just look up on Google Maps instead of bothering him. And he almost always pretends to not know and suggest they ask someone else and/or, y'know, just Google it. But when he turns around to face the asker, he finds the customary words _sorry, I don't_ stuck in his throat.

"Hello?" asks honest-to-fucking-god _George_ , as in _GeorgeNotFound_ , as in his _best fucking friend in the fucking world_. Clay may have only seen his face on a screen, but he sure as hell can recognize it in person in an instant anyways. He can't force the words out. His brain is reeling with such questions as _Why the hell is George in Florida? HOW the hell is George in Florida? Why didn't I KNOW that George was in Florida? Does he know who I am? Do I tell him who I am? What the everloving fuck am I supposed to do in this situation?_ , and normal vocal functions seem to be beyond him.

Finally, in possibly the stupidest move of his goddamn life, he says, "Uh, yeah, I know where Disneyworld is."

_Nice one, Clay. Well fuckin' done._

Clay can't figure out why he's so on edge until he realizes he's waiting for George to hear his voice and go _oh SHIT, you're DREAM!_ or something like that, but the moment never comes. George just smiles. 

"Okay, finally! No one's been helping me," he says, genuinely grateful. He extends a hand for a shake like the fucking idiot he is. "I'm George."

Okay. So this is the part when Clay responds something like _I'm Clay_ or _I know_ or _George, it's me_ and they get to have that first meeting moment when they both get so excited to see each other in person after all these years and then maybe go to Disney together and maybe then-

No. No, this is _not_ the part where Clay does the right thing.

"I - I'm. Trey," he manages, his brain providing nothing more helpful than mashing the sounds of _Dream_ and _Clay_ together. He's officially crossed the line of "no going back". Not crossed it, even. He's violently thrown his body across the line and collapsed on the other side in a grave that he has dug for himself. He waits for George to call him out on the lie or something, but the shorter man is painfully oblivious. 

"Nice to meet you!" he says, extending his hand further, and Clay finally remembers to shake it. Right. Physical interaction. He can handle that. "So you know how to get to Disneyworld?"

Again, Clay goes against his best interests and nods. "Uh, yeah. I can give you directions," he responds, hoping his tone is nice enough while still conveying the message, _I will tell you where to go and then you will go there and we will not interact any longer and then I will dye my hair and change my face so when we do eventually meet for real you will not recognize me as the dumbass from the parking lot outside the grocery store_.

George does not catch on to that message. "Yeah, uh, so, I'm actually terrible with directions," he says, looking to the ground and going a little red in embarrassment. Which is cute, Clay doesn't think. "I don't really...remember them or follow them well in the first place." He looks back up with a shy smile that is also very un-cute. "Would you mind...uh, this is dumb, this is where I keep losing people."

Oh god, this can't end well. This has to stop now please and thank you. Any smart person could see that.

"What?" Clay asks because he is not a smart person.

"I have a rental car, would you mind riding shotgun and directing me from there?" George looks really nervous, which is the main reason Clay doesn't lose his absolute shit. Holy fuck, what kind of rom-com has he walked into? (Scratch the rom, because Clay refuses to apply that to an interaction with George. Not yet. Or ever, maybe.) "Like, I can get you a ticket when we get there if you want, as, like, payment? I kinda don't wanna wander the park alone either..." And now he's doing the extremely not cute bashful blushing thing again, damn it. 

Clay doesn't even consider that this is the nine-millionth opportunity to hop out of the cozy little hole he's pushed himself into. He just answers in the way his brain tells him to - and mind you, it's already been established that Clay's brain is not the greatest right now. "Sure," he says, "sounds fun."

George beams. "Holy shit, really? Okay! C'mon, my car is parked over here," he says, gesturing at a white car with Jersey plates. Clay briefly dwells on the fact that every rental car ever seems to have plates from a totally different state than the one you've rented it in, but holy shit, that's _so_ not the point right now. The side effect of this mind-wandering is that he blindly follows George to the car without even thinking twice, and by the time he remembers how stupid he is, he's already buckled into the passenger seat and therefore trapped himself in this situation permanently. George starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot and Clay looks behind him and watches the "no going back" line disappear in the distance. 

"Okay, which way do I turn?" George asks, startling Clay, who immediately remembers he's supposed to be giving directions. 

"Uh, right at this intersection," he responds automatically, trying to focus on the way to Disneyworld instead of the way George looks so goddamn excited to even be on the way. He spends the first few minutes of the drive doing nothing but focusing on directions, but then they get on the highway, and it takes him all of two seconds to realize they don't need directions for another ten minutes or so, and have now reached "small talk to fill the silence" territory instead.

"So, Trey, how old are you?" George asks, making Clay jump in his seat. Right. That's supposed to be his name.

Clay ignores the instinct to lie - it's not like George could put two and two together based off his age if he's already blind to Clay's voice and mannerisms and _everything_. "Twenty-one," he answers. George nods, still smiling because he's a fucking adorable idiot. Um. Just an idiot, actually.

"I'm twenty-four," he says, and Clay pretends this is news.

"You sure you're older than me? You're a fuckin' baby," Clay responds, finding it way too damn easy to fall into the lighthearted ribbing that he's used to having with George over the internet. It's especially hard when standing next to George in the parking lot had made it clear just how much taller Clay is than him. It's even more than he'd imagined. Not that he's imagined that a lot or anything.

George chuckles. "Nope, definitely twenty-four last I checked."

"Well when _did_ you last check?" Clay asks, earning an eye roll from George.

"Very funny, smart guy," he says, but the laugh in his voice betrays his real thoughts. He directs his eyes back to the road. "So when do we get off the highway?"

Clay almost forgot what he was actually doing here. He takes in the surroundings and works out his position in the world again. "Uh, three more exits, I think." He wishes it was sooner. Three more exits translates to about five more minutes of uninterrupted Talking To Each Other. God, can someone save him from his self-induced misery?

George nods. "Awesome." After a brief moment, he says, "Man, you Americans and your driving on the wrong side of the road."

Clay can't help breaking into giggles - but he forces down a true laugh because if there's anything that would tip George off on his identity it's his tea kettle wheeze that's been the butt of so many jokes through the years. "God, George," he chokes out, "could you _be_ any more of a stereotype?"

George is full on beaming now, forcing down laughter so hard he's shaking, jogging the wheel a little to the right. Clay reaches over to correct their trajectory and accidentally touches George's hand in the process. This is fine. 

"Sorry, I couldn't think of what to say," he says. "I'm not exactly the best at conversation."

Clay snorts. "You're doing fine." Before George can say something back, he points vaguely to the windshield. "Next exit."

George nods and moves a lane to the right. Within a minute, they're exiting the highway. Clay moves back into direction-giving mode, trying to ignore the million billion things that are so fucking crazy about the past half an hour. It's no time at all before Clay is explaining to George what parking garage has the best ratio of distance from the park to cost, and they're pulling into a spot. As soon as George turns the car off, he turns to his passenger and grins. "Alright," he says. "Let's go."

Clay has another bout of trying-so-hard-not-to-lose-his-shit. He forgot about the "payment" George offered him for his help. "Uh," he manages. "It's okay, you don't need to like...get me a ticket or anything. I can just go home."

George laughs in the way that is, like everything else about him, absolutely not the cutest thing ever, for sure. "In what car?"

"...Uber?" Clay tries, even though he knows before he even says it that it's a lost cause.

"Absolutely not," George says, opening the door. "I'd be a fool not to give such a handsome gentleman a day in Disney." And then he fucking _winks_ , and Clay's heart does that fucking loop-de-loop thing they always talk about in books but he was pretty sure was just some bullshit up 'til now. What. Fucking what.

Before Clay can process this interaction in any way at all, George is outside of the car, on the passenger side, and opening Clay's door for him. "Come on," he says, doing a cheesy little bow and gesturing for Clay to climb out. And, against his better judgement, just like with literally everything else today, he does. 

George slams the door shut behind him and locks the car. The next few minutes are a blur as Clay tries to orient himself in this new reality in which George is in Florida, _with_ him, and fucking flirting or something. He doesn't have time to finish that orientation before they've arrived.

"Okay, Mr. Florida," George says, which draws an involuntary laugh from Clay for no good reason. "What's your favorite park?"

Clay _hm_ s. "Well," he says, "Magic Kingdom, because I'm a basic bitch. But...how long are you here for?"

"A week," George says, which is an amount of time that does not terrify Clay in the least bit at all. 

He forces that to the back of his mind, though, and gives his honest advice. "Okay, well you don't want to start with the best, then. Besides, it's," he checks his watch, oh god, he's been gone so long, Sapnap is gonna kill him, "four o' clock, and we have to factor in how long each park will be open..."

George laughs. "Okay, Einstein." Clay gives him a lighthearted glare, which pulls another laugh from George's mouth, because of course it does.

"Do you want my opinion or not?" Clay asks, raising an eyebrow, and George sighs dramatically and mutters, _fine, fiiiine_ , or something along those lines. "Well," Clay continues, "I'd say Animal Kingdom. I think it closes at, like, eight, so that gives us four hours, and you can have an early night, I'm sure you're jet lagged, and there's not that much to do there anyways, it's just really pretty, and..." He pauses when he sees the way George is intently watching him talk. George laughs again, and god, he needs to stop doing that, for the sake of Clay's heart. 

"You're sweet," he says, and when Clay starts to sputter, he elaborates, "your whole plan is about me having fun. I appreciate that." 

"Yeah, uh, yeah, well-" Clay starts to stammer, while also not at all blushing. "I just gotta make sure I rep Florida as best as possible," he finally manages, as if he cares at all what George thinks of this purgatory of a state. 

"Okay, sure," George responds in a tone that indicates that he does not at all believe that statement. "Let's go then, Florida Man." He grins and grabs Clay by the arm which does _not_ make Clay's skin tingle everywhere George's hand comes into contact with it and pulls him violently along to purchase two tickets. Clay watches him buy two week-long passes and does his best not to think too hard about what that implies. And then he's being dragged into the park and over the bajillionth "no going back" line. 

George gets excited as all hell the second they're inside, even before anything remotely special or interesting comes up. Still not cute. It still for sure is not cute. He finally releases Clay's arm, and his heart strings along with it, and says, "Alright, where are we going?" 

Clay thinks for a moment. "Okay," he says finally. "There's not too many rides here, but I think you should definitely try Dinosaur. No one ever goes on it because it's so crazy cheesy, but it used to terrify me as a kid. Good times."

George nods. "I love that that's a qualifier. Perfect. Lead the way."

Clay does so, pushing through the crowd at the front of the pair so his substantially smaller companion can get through more easily, and through all his whirling thoughts, it feels like no time at all before they're at the ride and then on it and then coming out of it and back into the sticky Florida heat. 

"I don't understand how that scared you," George comments as they take a moment to sit on a bench and have a planning session. "Like, even as a kid."

Clay huffs indignantly. "Listen, it's dark a lot of the time and then suddenly there's things and then there isn't and it's a whole lot to deal with, okay?" He turns to George, who's clearly holding in laughter. "What, you weren't even the tiniest bit scared?"

George shakes his head, then smirks. "How could I be with such a big, strong man to protect me?" he asks, taking the opportunity to lean up against Clay and look at him with big sad puppy eyes. Clay laughs, but inside he is fucking screaming. He's so lost in this interaction and for once he needs to draw a line instead of crossing it. He frees himself from George and clears his throat.

"George, sorry, uh," he begins awkwardly, "are you flirting with me? I just...I just need to make sure that I'm not misinterpreting." _Because you're my best friend and sometimes in my dreams the love of my life and I don't know how to deal with you acting like this._

George sits bolt upright and goes red. "Um...yeah. Sorry is that...is that not okay? I - sorry, you're really pretty and tall and nice, and I just assumed you were into guys, which I shouldn't have, so I'm sorry about-"

"No, no," Clay cuts him off, "that's-" _Everything I've ever wanted since the day I met you and then every day since then._ "-okay."

George lets out a huge sigh of relief. "Fuck, okay, uh." He looks back up at Clay nervously. "Sorry, my turn to clarify, is that a 'yes, you're into guys, it's okay for me to flirt'...?"

Clay has never (let himself) answer that question before and holy shit did he never want to, certainly not aloud, and _definitely_ not to George, but he's a goddamn idiot and he has nothing to lose, so he just says, "Yeah. Um, yes."

Damn it.

George exhales again and mimes wiping sweat off his brow, which is funny because there actually is a large quantity of sweat on his brow. "Okay, uh, good." His nervous look transforms straight back into a joyful smile. "So, where to next?"

Clay almost gets whiplash from the transition from admitting he's _maybe a little bit not quite actually straight actually_ for the first time in his life right back to a Disneyworld adventure, but just like everything else today, for better or for worse, he rolls with it. 

"Well, like I said, there's not really many rides here," he answers. "It's mostly just pretty. They have, like, a safari thing, which is cool, and then there's pretty much just a water ride and a rollercoaster." When he sees the way George's eyes light up at "rollercoaster", Clay sort of regrets his entire life. "You can do that last one alone, though, I don't want to do that," he rushes out, getting a scheming smirk from George. 

"I'll get you on it by the end of this week," he says, with a little bit of an evil undertone. Clay tries not to go fully red.

"This week...?" he manages, as if he hadn't already put that together when he'd seen what tickets George had bought. George laughs nervously. 

"Yeah," he says, "uh, you know how I'm bad at navigating on my own. I'd appreciate the company." Cocking his head to the side in a way that might be a little bit cute maybe but only a teeny bit, he continues, "You know, if that's okay with you? Spending the week with me?"

 _There's nothing in the world I want more_. "Uh, yeah. That sounds chill."

George beams so brightly he might be outshining the sun. "Awesome. So, if I can't drag you on the coaster yet, how about that water ride? I am fucking _boiling_."

Clay nods in agreement. "Yeah, sounds good. I'm on fire, dude." He hops off the bench, and George follows suit. Taking a deep breath and ignoring the weight of the past two or so hours crushing down on his shoulders, he puts on a big, painfully genuine smile and leads the way to Kali River Rapids.

The next couple hours are spent repeatedly getting drenched on the Rapids, followed by annoying everyone else on the safari by being soaked to their bones and getting water _everywhere_ , and then topping off the evening by getting a pair of sodas from a shop on the way out. 

Before they can actually leave, George pauses, causing Clay to stop in his tracks as well. 

"Wait," George says, and Clay does, because he would do anything the guy says, goddamn it. George pulls out his phone and gestures for Clay to get closer to him. "C'mon. Selfie." And fuckin' hell, how is he supposed to say no?

George throws his arm around Clay's shoulders like it's nothing and positions them so that the big-ass tree that everyone associates with Animal Kingdom is in the background, and then takes the picture. Before Clay can get a good look, he tugs his phone away. 

"Uh uh," he says, wagging a finger and grinning. "You can see it when I text it to you. Because you're giving me your number."

Clay has about five different heart attacks thinking about giving George his number and then George finding that it's already in his phone and realizing who "Trey" really is and so on and so on before he remembers George doesn't _have_ his number. They've always communicated over the internet, on Discord and the like, and after all these damn years, they've never exchanged _phone numbers_. 

Thanking the stars for his luck, Clay clears his throat. "Um, okay. It's..."

Once the number is in his phone, George sends the picture, and smiles one more time.

"This is where we part ways," he announces dramatically. "I'll uh...order you an Uber. And then I had _better_ see you back here tomorrow."

Clay chuckles. He can't help but love the way George can threaten him so warmheartedly. He doesn't even mention how George was so opposed to him catching an Uber earlier. He can only nod. 

So George hugs Clay goodbye and calls him an Uber - refusing to let Clay pay, naturally - and Clay rides back to the store doing nothing but sitting in the backseat, staring at the selfie on his phone.

He and George are pressed up next to each other, arms around each other's shoulders. The tree looms in the background. The sky is sunset-pink, and the light glows on both of their faces. George is either blushing or mildly sunburned, or both, but Clay is definitely just blushing. They both look a mess, in t-shirts that had obviously barely dried after their repeated abuse of unlimited rides, and their hair is sticking up everywhere - particularly Clay's, which is an unruly mess to begin with, but in the picture has taken on the resemblance of a curly blonde tumbleweed. They're both smiling so fucking huge, and everything about this picture is amazing, but what keeps hitting Clay again and again are George's _eyes_. They're stuck to Clay's face, soft and beautiful and full of something Clay can't pretend isn't some brand of adoration. Clay is, meanwhile, staring obliviously at the camera. He laughs softly, getting a weird look from his Uber driver, but he just ignores that. He ignores all the bad things about today, actually. He can pretend to be someone else for a week. Of course he can, if it means he gets to keep _this_.

Clay thanks the Uber driver when they stop and gets out at the grocery store parking lot. He gets into his own car, still full of various movie snacks, and drives home. (He stops at the corner store right by the house, and, of fucking course, they have Cheez-Its.) He sneaks in the door, arms full of groceries, and tiptoes past a sleeping Sapnap on the couch. The TV is still running, playing some crime show or another, and Clay leaves it be, concerned that turning it off could wake up his friend. He drops the snacks on the counter and tiptoes equally quietly upstairs to his room, and gets into bed immediately, barely bothering to kick his jeans off. 

And then he falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh so. i did not expect this to get so long. and this is just the first day of the week.
> 
> i am. THRILLED to be writing this i am SO happy with how it's going. if u like this please please please leave a kudos and comment to let me know cuz that's what keeps me fuckin' going, baby!
> 
> thanks so much for reading, i love u all!!!
> 
> have a great day!! <3
> 
> PS: for such a big fandom there are NOT enough dnf bodyswap fics. yall are slacking. i might have to fix that. persnaps.


	2. Monday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, the truth is told, but not to the right person, there is a fake son and a real sister, and two idiots aren't dressed for the occasion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uwu owo 
> 
> so big note first: i legally have to thank my lil sis (who is the same age as drista which is terrifying to think abt) for helping me w this chapter. she knows like 0 about dnf but i got her emotionally invested in the story and she was a big help with remembering what the hell they even have in epcot. and also im gonna help her make an ao3 to post her original works and i can and will force u guys to read them. shes very funny and smart. trust me on this.
> 
> anyways! enjoy 7000 FUCKING WORDS of idiots in love.

Clay wakes up with his phone pressed into his cheek. So what if he'd fallen asleep staring at the picture of him with George in Animal Kingdom? And then woken up in the middle of the night to stare at it again? And then fallen asleep looking at it again? And then woke up in the morning and set it as his home screen? (His lock screen is a picture of him and Drista dabbing in front of a McDonald's and he's not about to get rid of that work of art.)

He sits up in bed, rubbing at the indent of his phone on the side of his face, and yawns. Slowly, he gets out of bed and pulls on a pair of sweatpants, which have about a fifty-fifty chance of being clean. He shoves his phone in the back pocket and makes his way downstairs.

When he enters the kitchen, Sapnap is sitting at the counter, holding a mug of coffee, and sitting next to the pile of groceries like he's about to present them as evidence in a court case. Scratch that, he looks like he's going to present _Clay_ as evidence in a court case.

"So," Sapnap says, before Clay can try to throw out a casual "mornin'". "I suppose it took you, what, six or seven hours to get groceries, then?"

Clay looks at the groceries on the counter, and then at Sapnap. He's painfully aware of the physical weight of his phone in his back pocket, as well as the metaphysical weight of its home screen. He could always lie, but he and Sapnap have been friends for so long now, he knows Sap would see right through it. So he doesn't lie.

"I went to Disneyworld," he says, as if this is a normal thing to have done instead of buying food for you and your roommate. Sapnap has only lived here for like a month or two - he could probably play it off as a Native Floridian thing that his friend just doesn't understand yet. 

"You went to _Disneyworld_ ," Sapnap repeats, as if he needs to hear the words again to process them. "Could you at least have brought the groceries home first? Or, like, brought me?"

"No, no, you couldn't come," Clay blurts without thinking. Oh god, he can't even imagine trying to write off "Trey" knowing Sapnap, who George very much _would_ recognize. That's when he realizes he fucked up.

"What do you mean I couldn't come?" Sapnap asks, his voice dropping a couple pitches lower into the _I am interrogating you as if you are on death row so watch what the fuck you say_ range. 

Clay can't come up with a good answer to that. So he says something even dumber. "Um, I have to go back today, actually."

"Have to?" Sapnap asks. This is definitely an interrogation now, and Clay is pretty sure he's about to be judged guilty. "And I'm guessing I can't come today either?"

Well. Once again, there's no choice but to tell the truth. "I have a date!" Clay replies quickly, and immediately tries to ignore what he'd just said because he hadn't thought of it as a date 'til just now, and oh god, is it a date? Is he going on a _date_ with _George_? Holy fuck. "I, uh, met someone while I was shopping yesterday." Also not a lie. Good.

Sapnap's face softens at this. Good. So that was the right thing to say after all. "Should've just told me, you idiot! Who is she?"

Clay is so deep in his pit of dumbass shit he's said today that he might as well go in deeper. Or at least that's what he thinks in the flash of a second before he corrects, "He."

The room falls silent. Clay's heart skips a beat. Holy shit, that was stupid. He's never mentioned this whole... _maybe not being straight_ thing to Sapnap before. Hell, he hadn't even mentioned it to himself until yesterday. Even though he knows damn well Sapnap is chill, he can't help but worry he's about to get kicked out of the house or some shit like that. But after a minute, Sapnap just nods, and then pulls out his phone. 

"Uh. What are you doing?" Clay asks, mildly concerned. Sapnap's phone emits the _whoosh_ of a sent text, and then he looks back up at Clay.

"Bad owes me a twenty," he says casually. Before Clay can say something like _are you telling me y'all were betting on whether or not I liked guys_ , he continues, "C'mon, though, you won't even let your bestie third wheel with you?"

Fuckin' hell, this is the problem with telling the truth. You have to tell all of it. 

Clay can't bring himself to say it in words, so he just pulls his phone out of his pocket and opens it to The Photo - just as a picture, not his background, mind you, because he doesn't need Sapnap commenting on the fact he put it there so fast. "Nick," he says, indicating that this is a _for real serious thing_ , "you can't tell him." And then he turns his phone to Sapnap.

"Can't tell-" Sapnap starts, and then his eyes land on the photo, and snap wide open. He's silent for way, _way_ too long before he says, much quieter than Clay had expected, "That's _George_."

Clay can't help it when he lets out a loud, wheezing laugh. "No, really," he deadpans, or at least, does so as best he can through the squealing sound he's currently making. "I hadn't noticed!"

Sapnap is very unamused by this, but to his credit, he doesn't say that out loud. Instead, he says, "You're telling me you ran into George while you were shopping yesterday."

Clay nods slowly. "Uh huh."

"And you went to Disneyworld with him."

"This is correct."

"And you're going back today to go on a date."

"Yes."

"With _George_."

Clay inhales sharply, before managing to reply, "Yup."

Sapnap nods. "Okay. Okay." He pauses, narrowing his eyes, confusion working its way back into them. "Wait, what can't I tell h-" And then his eyes snap wide open again, and Clay can almost see his brain turning two and two into four as he watches. "Oh my god. He doesn't know who you are."

Clay laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck and casting his eyes to the ground as if acting embarrassed will get him out of the deep shit he knows he's just gotten himself into. "No, uh...that would be the last thing, yeah. He thinks I'm some random guy named Trey."

For whatever reason, there's a weird look on Sapnap's face as he seems to realize something else, but Clay doesn't know for the life of him what it is, and after this mess, he's not sure he wants to. Sapnap is taking another long break to think, nodding to himself and "hm"ing as if he's giving himself a lecture. Clay has never seen him do this before. It makes him feel even more like the defendant in a court case. And he just took a terrible plea deal.

Finally, Sapnap looks up and says, "Dude, you gotta tell him."

Clay blinks. And then blinks again. And again. It doesn't help clear his mind as much as he'd hoped it might. "Tell him...what?" he says stupidly, like the fucking idiot he's proven himself to be over the past twenty-four hours.

"Tell George," Sapnap begins, making a point of speaking slowly, one word at a time, as if he thinks Clay won't understand him if he speaks any faster, "who you actually are."

Clay wants to make some sort of argument, but he really can't. Sapnap is right. Of course he's right. But at the same time, Clay can't imagine going up to George today and saying, _Surprise! I'm actually your best friend and I lied to you! Still wanna go on a date?_ Yeah, as if that's gonna fly.

"I'll tell him," he says, not meaning it whatsoever.

If Sapnap knows Clay is lying, he doesn't show it. He slides Clay's phone back across the counter to him, and Clay scoops it up like he's worried it's about to explode. "Okay," Sapnap says simply. Then he breaks from his serious courtroom-esque demeanor straight into Best Friend Who's About To Bully The Fuck Outta You. "Holy shit though! You're going on a date with George!"

Clay laughs nervously. "Yeah, uh, I guess."

"Lies and bullshit aside, that fuckin' rocks," Sapnap tells him, and Clay can tell he means it - especially the first bit.

Clay manages a weak smile, because yeah, it sort of does rock, doesn't it? He's going to say something to that effect, but then his phone buzzes in his hand. The screen lights up with a message from an unknown number - but even without the context of the UK country code and the contents of the message, Clay instantly knows who it's from. By the look on his face, Sapnap does too.

 _Hey Trey! It's George from Disneyworld!_ Clay has to pause to laugh quietly to himself, because it's just so cute that George feels the need to specify that he's the George from Disneyworld, as if Clay had given his number to another George yesterday. As if any other George could get his heart racing the way it is right now just reading a text. The text goes on, _Meet me at the parking garage from yesterday at 10? I'll buy coffee!_ Clay instinctively gags. Sapnap snorts in a way that gives Clay the idea that he can guess exactly what had gotten that choking noise out of his friend. 

_No coffee, thanks_ , Clay writes back quickly. _But parking garage at 10, yes._

_Tough crowd. Hot cocoa?_

Clay smiles absentmindedly at his phone. It's just like George to try so hard to do something nice for him. _Sure. Cocoa works._

"Whatcha smiling about? Did your boyfriend say something cute?" Sapnap asks, leaning over the counter to try and read Clay's phone screen. Clay turns off his phone and flips it face down on the counter, earning a pout from his curious friend. 

"Shut up, Snapmap," he says bitterly. "He's not my boyfriend! It's one date!" 

Sapnap snorts, raising both eyebrows as if to say, _Sure, bud, you keep telling yourself that._ "I can't wait for you to tell him so I can bully him about it, too."

Clay forces an agreeable smile, even as his throat feels like it's going dry. Even the suggestion of telling the truth makes his stomach twist with nausea. "Sure, man. Have at it."

Sapnap seems appeased by Clay's response, and clasps his hands together excitedly. "So when are you going to meet your mans, huh?" he asks, only laughing when Clay glares at him again. 

Clay opens his phone again. There's another text from George - _Awesome. See you soon! <3_ \- and the heart at the end makes Clay's own heart do the flippy-floppies, but the important part is that it's 9:35. Clay's head snaps up to Sapnap, eyes wide. "Shit," he says, ignoring the muffled laughter coming out of his roomie's mouth. "I have to go break some traffic laws."

///

With enough speed limit violations, Clay is successfully able to make it to the parking garage at exactly 9:59. When he climbs out of the car, he slams the door so hard that it echoes through the entire garage, which is probably what clues George in to where he is, because he's only halfway down the stairs to ground level when he runs straight into his best friend/maybe date/unknowing victim. 

"Trey!" George greets him cheerfully, grabbing him up in a hug, which is really funny because George is still a step down from him, and also about six or seven inches shorter, so George's face ends up pressed into Clay's chest. It's kind of adorable. Clay laughs and hugs him back. 

"Hey George!" Clay replies as the two of them separate after...perhaps a few seconds or so too long, but who can say? He makes eye contact with George just then, and is almost blown away by the warmth in his eyes. They're almost glowing, he thinks, and George's face is just a little bit flushed, and fuck, Clay has never seen him smile like this. That's when he truly makes his decision, that's when it's set in stone. He doesn't know how George would feel if he told him the truth. But "Trey" is making him happy like this - happy in a way that Clay wants to see him for the rest of their mortal lives, and then some. So for now, "Trey" is going to stay. Because Clay can't possibly break this man's heart.

"C'mon!" George says, gesturing to some indeterminate point behind him. "I promised you cocoa, didn't I?"

Clay can't help but grin as George grabs him by the arm and tugs him down the stairs and into the open air, which is all the more open with George by his side. Clay isn't even sure what that means, and it's so sappy that he can feel the cavities forming, but his teeth can melt out of his goddamn mouth for all he cares. As long as George is happy. (And yeah, his teeth are definitely melting now.)

Clay can't figure out why he half-expected George to drag him to some hole-in-the-wall coffee shop that would make his hot chocolate from, like, freshly smashed cocoa beans or some shit like that, but regardless, he can't hold back a snort when he gets pulled through the door of a Starbucks. George hears, and flashes him a look of faux-annoyance that quickly shifts into a smile.

"What, am I not cultured enough for you snooty Floridians?" George asks, earning another snort out of Clay.

"Shut up," Clay replies. "You're dumb."

George just sticks out his tongue in response, which doesn't make much of an argument in his favor, honestly.

George orders for them - "the largest goddamn hot chocolate you can possibly make" for Clay, and a coffee for himself that is way more sugary and caramel-loaded than Clay expected from him. Barely even thinking about it, Clay memorizes the exact order, making an offhanded mental note to bring one to George some other day. After a short bout of bickering, which seems to be very amusing to the barista, Clay gives in, and George pays.

They don't talk much while they wait for their drinks, but that's perfectly okay with Clay, because it gives him more time to watch George. He finds himself cataloguing his companion's every mannerism - the way he shoves his hands in and out of his pockets, the way he rocks on the soles of his feet, the warm little smiles he gives to Clay when he thinks he isn't looking. But Clay is always looking, and damn it if he'll ever stop.

Holy fuck, since when has he been _this_ head over heels for George? It's taken him all of 20 hours to go from "oh god oh god I might like guys" to "oh god oh god I am falling deeply in love with this guy". (Well, to be fair, it's not like the "falling in love with this guy" thing is entirely new. But that's a crisis for later.)

George collects their drinks and hands Clay's to him. The cup warms his hands almost as much as George's face warms his heart. (Damn it, he's doing the tooth-melting fluff thing again.)

"Alright, Florida Man," George says as they stroll back into the sun. Clay chuckles. That nickname is growing on him, as stupid as it is. "Where are we going today?"

Clay turns to him and cocks an eyebrow, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. He likes it, but like, it's Starbucks hot chocolate. He already knew he would.

Just like he already knew he'd like George.

But that's besides the point.

"You don't have a plan?" he asks, and in all honesty, he isn't sure what he'd expected. George doesn't do "plans". But he also isn't a very "let's wing it" sort of person. George in person is different than Clay expected. _Or maybe it's just George with you that's different,_ his brain suggests unhelpfully. Clay ignores that.

"You're my tour guide," George tells him, making it sound way more romantic than it probably should, and repeats, "So, where are we going?"

Clay _hm_ s to himself, thinking through the parks and the amount of time George is here for and putting it all together in a formula that's, honestly, less of a formula and more of one more brain cell jumping around in his head than usual. "Epcot," he finally decides aloud. Turning to George, who's looking at him quizzically, he elaborates, "Epcot is worth a whole day, but you don't want to go too late into your trip. It's not something you build up to, y'know?" 

George nods enthusiastically, as if he understands completely, but then immediately says, "I actually have no idea what Epcot is."

Clay snorts. "You'll see. There's, like, a couple rides, but it's really more about the country pavilions."

"The what," George responds blankly.

"I told you," Clay says, amused. "You'll see."

It's only when they get to the gates and George needs to withdraw his hand to get their tickets that Clay realizes he had slipped his hand into his friend's sometime along the walk. 

///

"Explain Epcot to me again," George says as they come up to the entrance to the World Showcase, which is a pretty stupid name, if you ask Clay, but like most things, that's besides the point.

Even though George has asked this like five times already, Clay doesn't hesitate to explain again. "Well," he says, "they've got eleven 'pavilions', whatever that's supposed to mean, for eleven different countries. You kinda just walk through them. They've got food and shit, and there's this stamp collection game that kids do." When he sees George's eyes light up, Clay stifles a grin. "What, did I not mention the stamp thing?"

George shakes his head. "No! I want to get the stamps!"

Clay can't hold back the smile anymore, and some laughter leaks out with it, but if George notices, he doesn't mind. "I think that's for kids, George."

"I think anyone can collect fake stamps in Disneyworld, _Trey_ ," George responds, trying to hold a glare but dissolving into giggles instead.

So that's how Clay ends up attempting to buy an Epcot Passport for twelve bucks from a vendor who looks very suspicious of the two adult men playing a kids' game. He makes this very clear by giving them a dubious look and saying, "You...know this is a childrens' game, right?"

Sure, maybe they could just say yes and buy it anyways and go on with their day. There's no need to lie about it. But Clay is an idiot who has recently discovered he has a proficiency in lying, so without thinking, he points a finger at George and says, "It's for his son."

George gives him a look of confusion, to which Clay only responds by digging himself in deeper. 

"Yeah," he continues, "his son, uh..." He grasps at air for any semblance of A Name For A Child That Most Certainly Exists, and of fucking course, what comes out is, "His son, Tommy." George tries very hard to hide it when he chokes on his own laughter, and even though he feels stupid, Clay keeps going. "Yeah, Tommy is, uh, in the hospital right now."

The Disneyworld employee doesn't seem to realize how hard Clay and George are trying not to lose it laughing, or maybe he thinks they're trying to hold back tears and not giggles. "I'm so sorry to hear that," he says completely genuinely. Oh god, Clay really is about to go absolutely insane. And when he thinks it can't possibly get any more stupid and/or hilarious, George jumps in on the lie too.

"Yes," he says, mustering the most genuine fake sigh of longing Clay has ever heard. "Tommy's been in the hospital for a while now, and he can't leave to come to Disneyworld with us. So we promised him we'd bring him an Epcot Passport. It's all he ever asks us for." 

The employee nods sympathetically. "No worries. In fact, don't tell my boss about this, but..." he pauses to slip the passport kit across the counter and looking left and right as he does so, as if he's exchanging it for ten kilos of heroin, or something like that. (Clay isn't entirely sure how much heroin an Epcot Passport could buy you, but that seems about right, doesn't it?) "You don't need to pay to make a sick kid happy. Tell Tommy he'll be in my thoughts."

George keeps an impressively straight face as he accepts the offer and nods solemnly. "We'll be sure to tell him. Thank you for your kindness." 

The employee nods just as solemnly, but unlike George, his nod is completely serious. George and Clay start to turn away to make their escape, and as they do, the employee adds, "And by the way, you two are wonderful fathers. Tommy is a lucky boy."

George smiles and replies, "Thank you very much." And then he turns, grabs Clay's wrist, and pulls him away from the stand as quickly as physically possible. It's only three seconds before he bursts out laughing, thankfully out of the employee's view. Clay can't stop himself from following suit.

"Oh my god," he chokes out, giggling so hard he's shaking. Some passerby are giving him concerned looks, but he doesn't really notice. "Oh my god, that was terrible of us."

"Twenty-four hours and we already have a child," George comments, sending Clay into another spiral of laughter. "Don't you think this is moving a little fast?" The words seem serious, but his tone and the smile plastered on his face give away that what George is really thinking is something like, _I don't think I'd mind moving that fast with you at all_. Or maybe Clay is reading too far into it. That's also possible.

"It's okay, we'll just have a shotgun wedding," Clay responds through receding laughs, wiping a few stray tears out of his eyes. He hasn't laughed so hard he cried in so long. He hasn't been this happy in so long, period. It's an amazing feeling. 

"Yeah!" George replies excitedly, to the point where Clay almost lets himself forget it's a joke. Almost. "And then I can get a green card and move in with you so we can both be with Tommy!" 

Clay tries not to show too much emotion at the words "move in with you", but it's hard. After all, that's the plan, eventually. But until now, he'd always thought about it as "getting the Team together". Now, in this context, he's starting to think about it differently. Now he's thinking about George moving in, romantically. Now he's thinking of kicking Sapnap out of the house, or maybe moving out to get a place of their own. And as much as he tries, he can't shut his brain up. 

"Of course," he answers, instead of blurting out all the things he finds that he really wants to say right now. "We couldn't possibly separate Tommy from his favorite father."

George shoves his shoulder against Clay playfully. "Shut up. I'm sure you'd be the better dad." Fuck, Clay's brain is about to fucking implode over what he knows George sees as light-hearted jokes with a stranger, but luckily he's saved by George continuing, "It's funny, 'cause I actually know a Tommy. If he found out he was my fake son now, I think he'd _die_."

It takes all of Clay's brainpower not to respond, "I know". Because he's not supposed to know. "Trey" doesn't know who Tommy is, "Trey" doesn't know anything about the people George hangs out with. And right now, "Trey" is who he has to be. So instead of jumping in with another joke about exactly what Tommy would say if he knew he was now the DreamNotFound love child, Clay just says, "Seriously? That's so funny. I just went with the first name that popped into my head." Another not-lie. That has to count for something, right?

George chuckles, and waves the passport in front of Clay's face. "Let's get those stamps for our sick son, yeah?"

And so their adventure begins. Clay insists that they travel around the circle clockwise, because "there's a way these things are _done_ , George", which means the first place they stumble into is Mexico. George points out how absolutely bullshit a representation of the entire country of Mexico this probably is, but Clay can tell from his face that he's having fun. After a quick search, they find their first stamp, and throw the woman who hands it to them another offhanded comment about their very sick son when they can tell she's looking around them to find the kid that this passport must be for. They get more condolences for poor Tommy, and then they're on their way again.

They pass through Norway - "No, we have no idea how long he has left to live. It's so sad." - China - "He's been in there for a few months now, yeah." - Germany - "He's always loved Disney, you know, ever since we adopted him after he was rescued from that terrible fire." - and Italy - "He has lung cancer. He lost his birth parents in a terrible fire, you know." - and they're just entering "The American Adventure" when Clay's phone buzzes. He pulls it out of his pocket as they walk and snorts at the text.

_Snapmap  
how's the date, loverboy?_

Clay swipes away the text so George doesn't see it and bully him over the "loverboy" thing, or, potentially worse, ask why his friend is called Snapmap in his phone. Clay's not sure he could lie his way out of that one. Even though he's managed to stave off that danger, at least for a moment, George still manages to look over his shoulder and see something inconvenient.

"Who's that?" he asks, pointing at Clay's lock screen, which is still, of course, him with Drista. Clay almost has a stroke before he remembers that George has no idea what Drista looks like, so seeing her isn't about to give him away. He still has to explain her in a way that doesn't lead George onto his trail, though.

"That's my sister," he says truthfully, sticking to the policy of telling the truth whenever possible. "We got our mom to take that picture while we were on a road trip one time. She didn't think it was as funny as we did." He can't help but smile at the memory. Judging by the little "aww", George lets out, he's noticed.

"How old is she?" George asks, and even though it's obvious he's just genuinely interested, Clay has a moment of panic where he's worried George is trying to sus him out with personal questions. He gets over himself pretty quick, though, and gives another honest answer. 

"Fourteen," he says. When he hears George give an amused little snort, he smiles. "Yeah. She's definitely the baby sister." 

"What's her name?" George continues, and once again it's an innocent question that puts Clay straight back in the metaphorical courtroom from this morning. 

"Um," he says. He'd give Drista's real name, but if George finds out who he really is, then he'll know that's Drista, and Clay isn't about sharing his sister's personal information without asking her. In a split second, his brain goes through a path of thoughts that's something like _well, if I'm Trey, Drista would be Trista, and that kinda sounds like Triss like from Divergent, and her name way short for Beatrice, so..._ "Bea," he settles on, satisfied with the fact that he'd even managed to come up with a name at all after all he had earlier was fuckin' _Tommy_.

"Well, she seems great," George tells him, and looks away from the phone, apparently satisfied with this new information. Clay feels unnecessarily relieved. 

George spots the person handing out the stamps in this pavilion and makes a run for it, leaving Clay to laugh to himself a little at his friend's antics. George has always been adorable - uh, _fun_ to talk to online, but he's much more so in person. Clay wonders why he never tried to arrange a meetup before. They could've been doing this so much earlier.

(Well, okay, he knows why. It's the same anxiety that hit him when he ran into George yesterday, the same reason that he's pretending to be "Trey" right now. The same _what if he feels differently about me when he sees me in person_ train of thought that he's been having for years now. But he's happy to keep pretending he doesn't know that, as long as he gets to keep George, too.)

While George is busy collecting the stamp, very clearly having an animated conversation about Poor Sick Tommy with the woman handing it to him, Clay shoots a quick " _Shut up, dumbass. It's going fine._ " back to Sapnap. He's just slipping his phone away again when George returns and informs him that Tommy also lost one of his legs in the fire that killed his parents. 

And then they keep going.

George wonders why they gave Morocco a pavilion, and then why France gets such a big one, and then takes one look at the UK pavilion and announces, "No comment", which makes Clay laugh way harder than it should for something that doesn't even really count as a joke. When they go to get this stamp, George proceeds to overexaggerate his accent to the unlucky employee distributing them, explaining Tommy's tragic backstory again with a lot of British slang that Clay's pretty sure he full-on made up, honestly. The mildly terrified employee hands him like five extra stamps while looking around like he's trying to find someone to protect him from the crazy man with the extremely sad son. 

By the time they make it to Canada, the sun is setting. Clay can't figure out for the life of him where the day had gone. It had felt like forever and only a blink of an eye at the exact same time. There's just something about being with George that makes every moment an infinity, and when every moment is a forever, forever seems too short.

Or at least, that's probably what someone who writes, like, poetry or something would say. That's not a thought Clay would ever have in _his_ human brain, of course.

Clay is just about to offer to buy them dinner from one of the pavilions - he's curious about the food at the Morocco pavilion, actually - when George says, "Hey, so, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to go out for dinner tonight?"

Clay can't pin down the exact reason his heart skips a beat, but there's probably quite a few of them. "Uh, yeah," he says after what he considers to be a normal amount of time, hopefully. All he had wanted to do was blurt out _yes absolutely always_ the split second that George finished his sentence, but he's trying not to be _that_ enthusiastic. Because that's not the kind of response you get from a guy you met yesterday. It's the response that you get from your best friend of years and years who's slowly starting to realize that he's maybe been in love with you all along.

But, y'know, that's besides the point.

"Okay, cool!" George beams as if he was expecting a no, as if Clay could ever say that to him. "I, uh, I'm glad you said yeah, because I kind of already made a reservation somewhere this morning? Like, I couldn't sleep 'cause time zones or something, and I was thinking about you, but like, not in a creepy way I promise, and I realized I maybe wanted to take you out for something more, uh, official than Disneyworld?" He cringes when he says that and corrects, "Not official, uh, romantic? Not that I don't like Disneyworld, and it's totally romantic, it's just-"

Clay doesn't know where he gets the nerve to do it, or why the hell he thinks to do it in the first place, but he presses a finger against George's lips. It does the job of shutting him up amazingly well, but it also does amazingly well at making Clay's heart drop into the bottom of his chest as the world seems to slow around them. George reaches up as if to move the finger away from his face, but his hands grab on to Clay's and just kind of...stay there. Finally, George unfreezes, and very, very slowly pulls Clay's hand down from his face. They're making eye contact this whole time, looking at nothing but each other, as if the rest of Disneyworld, and hell, the _whole_ world doesn't exist. It feels like they're having a capital-M _Moment_ , like maybe something amazing is about to happen. Clay feels himself start to lean in, and maybe George is doing the same, and then-

"Excuse me?"

Clay and George break apart with a start at the voice. Clay shoves his hands into his hoodie pockets, and George crosses his arms behind his back, clearing his throat nervously.

They've been stopped by a Disneyworld employee, who Clay presumes is about to reprimand them for having their Moment in the middle of a public space filled with small children, but when she opens her mouth, what she actually says is, "Are you Tommy's parents? I just wanted you to know I heard about your son from the other people here, and we all send our thoughts and prayers to him."

Clay and George stare wide eyed at the woman. It's clear neither of them saw that one coming. At least they're not in trouble, which is a plus.

"Thank you," George replies after a painfully long silence. "I can't, uh, I can't believe that this has spread through the park so fast."

The woman nods. "Well, it has. And all of us at Epcot wish you and your boy well."

Clay mirrors her nod, except much slower, and much less sure of himself. "Uh, well, thank you."

"Have a good night, you two," she says, smiling softly. "Give Tommy my best."

George mumbles something about how yeah, sure, they will, and the woman seems satisfied. She turns and walks back into the crowd, and the boys stare after her, wide-eyed.

"I think we've started something bigger than we meant to," Clay comments bleakly. When he sees George's grin, though, he breaks into one of his own. "Oh, shut up. It's really not that funny."

George chuckles. "It really is. But let's not argue now. We have a dinner to get to."

And then he drags Clay off towards the park exit and Clay realizes he would follow this man to the ends of the damn earth if only he asked.

///

Clay drives them to the restaurant that George directs him to, and when he parks, he instantly feels like the restaurant itself is judging him. 

"Oh my god, George," he says as he gets out of the car, "I feel like I should be in a suit right now." Looking down, he confirms that he's still wearing the sweatpants he'd thrown on this morning before going downstairs and a well-worn hoodie over the same t-shirt he'd slept in. From the looks of it, George hadn't planned ahead for this either. He's wearing jeans and a t-shirt, although he still manages to look much more put-together than Clay does. So exactly the same as always, then.

George just shrugs. "Nah, we'll be fine. It'll be fun." He emphasizes this with the biggest smile Clay has seen from him yet. It's crazy, seeing George like this. He's so chilled out, so comfortable right where he is, to the point that he's okay with walking into a fancy restaurant in jeans and a fuckin' t-shirt. Clay gets the feeling he's not the only one who's happier than he's been in a while right now.

It takes all of the two minutes they spend getting a table and being handed their menus by a clearly disapproving server for Clay to realize there's _no_ way they're making it through this whole dinner. Everyone in the restaurant is looking at them like they're dirty children, or something like that. And compared to all these well-dressed, clearly rich patrons, Clay sort of feels the same.

George seems to catch onto the vibe, but he seems quite a bit more chill about it. "Okay," he says, "there's no way we're actually eating here, right?"

Clay nods, relieved. "Yeah, we should just-"

"-get kicked out on purpose."

Clay raises an eyebrow, trying to use incredulousness to cover the straight-up shock he's pretty sure he's just gone into. That's a suggestion he'd never expected to hear out of George's mouth. " _What_?" he asks, just loud enough for the people surrounding them to give them more dirty looks. Clay gives them his best apologetic look, and they all look away again, although it's very clear they're all on their last nerve with these two fools already. It definitely wouldn't be hard to get kicked out of here. And, Clay has to admit, it would be pretty fun. And a hell of a story. But... _still_.

"We should get kicked out on purpose," George repeats, a conspiratorial smile spreading across his face. "It's a lot better than getting up and leaving on our own, right? That just means we forfeit."

Okay, Clay can't argue with that. 

"Alright, yeah, let's do it," he agrees, finding that George's smile is more than a little bit contagious. "But how do we-"

"WAITER!" George practically screams, dramatically waving an arm in the air as if he needs any assistance to attract attention. It takes about two seconds for a very disgruntled server to show up.

"What can I do for you, sir?" he asks, his tone making it _very_ clear that the "sir" is a job requirement, and not at all honorary.

"I'd like a Big Mac," George informs him, holding his face so completely serious that his expression alone sends Clay into his millionth laughing fit of the day, which successfully draws the attention of everyone else in the restaurant. 

The man is completely unamused by George's request. "This is not a McDonald's, sir," he says forcefully. George fakes a dumbfounded expression, and flashes Clay a look that says something like _c'mon, back me up here!_

"Excuse me!" Clay declares, standing up from his seat and clapping a hand over his heart theatrically. "My boyfriend _will_ have his Big Mac!" (It doesn't even cross his mind that he just used The B Word. He's having too much fun.) In the background, he sees what appear to be a couple of managers whispering to each other in the corner. This is _too_ easy. He decides he might as well end this now. He climbs up onto his chair, standing up to his full height and putting his hands on his hips and declaring, "I'll have you know, our SON is in the HOSPITAL!"

Thirty seconds later, the two of them are practically getting shoved back out the door by a manager who does not seem at all amused by how they're dissolving into laughter so badly that they're leaning on each other support. Once they're satisfactorily removed, the manager turns back around and slams the door closed with a loud _HMPH_ , which only sends George and Clay into another round of hysterics.

They stay leaned against one another as they make their way back to Clay's car, still falling in and out of bouts of giggles as they go. Right as they near the car, George says, "Boyfriend?"

Clay is confused for a second, and then freezes up, finally putting together that he had _said that_. "Oh, I," stammers weakly, looking for any kind of explanation, because _I've just wanted that for years now and the opportunity to say it came up so of course I had to_ doesn't seem appropriate right now. "I was playing along, y'know? Just messing, uh. I mean, it's been, like, a day, and..." He swallows nervously. The list of dumb things he's done recently is officially long enough to be its own Harry Potter book. And, like, one of the long ones. 

"Yeah, but," George says, moving so he's in front of Clay, but keeping one hand on Clay's arm, "boyfriend?"

Clay feels like he's living in a fuckin' dream, or maybe more like a fanfiction, but when he gives it a few seconds, everything around him remains just as real as before. 

"Yeah," he finally manages. "Yes."

George nods once, as if he's officially confirming this, and then breaks into another heart-melting smile. "So. How about that Big Mac, though?"

So Clay and George have their date at McDonald's, where George doesn't even _get_ a Big Mac, and then they leave the restaurant with a pair of ice cream cones and wander around under the dim city stars with their hands intertwined, talking about everything and nothing. Clay can almost let himself forget that he's living a lie right now. He just stays in the Moment - _definitely_ with a capital M - and lets George ramble, squeezing his hand on and off whenever he happens to remember he's still holding it. Then George yawns loudly, and Clay offers him a ride back to his hotel. He watches from the car as George enters the hotel lobby, his passport clutched in one hand, and smiles fondly. George turns around right as the doors are closing behind him, and blows a sleepy kiss. Clay mimes catching it, and even though he knows George can no longer see him, he holds it in his clenched fist against his heart for a few moments longer.

When he gets back home, it's late again, and once again Sapnap is passed out on the couch, presumably having fallen asleep waiting for Clay to get back again. Clay sneaks through the living room and up the stairs to his room just like he had last night, and collapses into his bed, exhausted, but content.

If this is a dream, he might actually be okay with it. As long as he never wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me writing "20 hours", being a completely sane person: I N A N O L D V A N,
> 
> also sorry this was so mcdonalds centric i work at mcdonalds and i cannot escape it. help me
> 
> as always!! kudos n comments make my day and i really love hearing from you guys!! <3 thanks for reading!! love yall!!


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